@Ingrid

ебать, he grunts, eloquent as always. fuck. it’s little more than an exhale, the word pressed through tightly clenched teeth, as he rolls his one shoulder halfheartedly. trying to work through the kinks in the joint, the old aches that have flared up with the cooling weather. outside the grotto, the falls rumble and the snow falls — it’s early afternoon but it looks dark and dreary, the sky turned fully grey. in the grotto, though, the little fireflies offer some warmth to the lighting and the walls keep out some of the wind.

not all the cold, though.

another grunt punches from his chest as the tendons in his shoulders snag on a sore spot and he pauses, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose. maybe he hadn't been doing enough exercise to keep his aging body limber. the spirits in his ear titter at the thought, swooping low to giggle right in his ears. he huffs, plopping his haunches into the dirt as he does his best to ignore them. them and the never-ending ache that radiates from his shoulder, the old injury the only reminder he has of the man who'd given it to him.

let no soul harbor guilt

table by sentinel / art

The frost has wrought a silence, prey and birds alike vacating the lands in favor of warmer regions. The sizable weight of snow on the ground absorb her footfalls as she quietly slinks along, her woodland pelt a rather striking constrast against the endless shawl of white.

She never liked the cold, but she's willing to endure the unpleasant chill to commune with Maua. In all the times she's been here, she's found their presence is particularly potent here. Chastised by the steady snowfall, she slips inside the grotto, where she's welcomed with a beautiful sight. The cavern is etched with light; numberless fireflies dancing in the blackness.

She can't help the smile that ghosts over her face. "Hello, Maua. I hope you're enjoying ze season." Then a voice tumbles out of the dark. He's speaking Anya's language, and what he says nearly makes her cheeks redden. So crass! In Maua's temple, of all places. The audacity!

She marches deeper into the darkness; maybe he needs help or maybe he's stuck—whatever the case, Ingrid intends to give him a decent scolding. She stops not far off, her eyes still adjusting to the pitch black as she attempts to appraise the huking figure. "Vhat's the meaning of ziss vulgarity?"

code to pine

Had he been aware of @Ingrid's presence, he might not have loitered here. It didn't seem like abparticuaely popular spot to gather -- running into someone else here seemed unlikely. Yet here she was, chiding him like a mother to her errant son. The ruriks eyes widen as he turns to better face her, half expecting her to grab him by the ear, too. Sorry, he says in russian but bunny's too lazy to translate -- handsome features shifting easily into sheepish, shoulders hunching in repentance. She understood his CUSS so surely she'd understand this, too -- and if not, his body language does it for him. Ears pulled down, flopping pathetic, kazimir regards the split-face woman, a lightbulb turning on above his head. Do you.. live here? He asks in the common tongue, almost nervously. He already felt bad, but if it turned out that he'd busted into her house and broke the peace with his profanity...

Well.

He'd feel even worse.

let no soul harbor guilt

table by sentinel / art

Her pupils dilate as she tries to get a gander at the rude man, feline eyes responding to the scant amount of light available. She creases her brow at his apology, the tense line of her shoulders relaxing somewhat. His hulking figure slowly becomes more apparent as her vision adjusts to the darkness, swathed in a handsome coat of brown.

The bearlike man almost seems remorseful, like an outsized cub being chastised by its mother. It's endearing for one so huge as @Kazimir, and while the apology mitigates Ingrid's initial anger somewhat, it appears she still has some words for the gentle man, apparently not particularly discouraged by his size. "Live in a cave? Nefer." She dismisses, her voice still honey thick with a maternal sterness. "Do you hafe any idea vhere you are?"

code to pine

fortunately it seems that no real damage has been done.

@Ingrid, though still displeased, does not bristle anymore with anger. it does not grow any further than it already has, and heavy brows raise as she speaks. it wasn't her home, which leaves him with just... confusion. if it wasn't her home, then why all the fuss? she turns that very question onto him and the rurik shifts where he stands, bodyweight split between his paws. a cave, he says -- it's not a question but his voice still lilts up at the end. searching for the answer she so clearly has, and that he is sorelely lacking. this is my first time here, he says in the place of an explaination, russian accent thick around his words. folded ears shift forward, attention solely on her -- ruby eyes lingering upon her split-face. waiting for those gaps to be filled in, and hoping that she would be so generous as to do it for him.

let no soul harbor guilt

table by sentinel / art

A cave. Ingrid's expression doesn't change, her eyes shooting icicles. The medic arches a single brow. She's disappointed in @Kazimir, obviously, and she doesn't scruple to let it show. "Yes. I can see zat." She chides. She already knows they're inside a cave—that wasn't the point of her question. "You really don't know vhere you are?" She repeats again, disbelief creeping into her voice. She's starting to think the burly man truly is as clueless as he looks. "You're inside a sanctuary of Maua." She does soften just a bit; it's obvious the bearlike cat didn't mean any harm. The fireflies continue to jump around in the darkness; it's a comforting sight. "Zey are in our midst. Can you feel it?"

code to pine

she might not be pleased with hs answer, but it's the only one he has. her disapointment shines, as does her bafflement -- he srunches up his shoulders, as if he might vanish into the heavy-set of them. as if he might hide from her scolding by withdrawing into the mess of his mane. kazimir rurik was not a learned man -- such declareations were commonplace in his life ; it does not make them easier to swallow. even now, with age, he has not learned how to be wrong gracefully -- instead, shying away like a child. and when she asks another question.... well. The answer to that question was the same as before, and he's already been chided enough. So instead his heavy brows knit together, still unable to completely remove that perplexed big-dog face of confusion from his features. His folded ears flop a little as he shakes his head no, subconsciously leaning towards @Ingrid a bit. She's already proven to be more knowledgeable than him about this cave ( a special cave, to be sure, but a cave nonetheless ); perhaps she won't mind sharing a bit more of her knowledge. Who is maua? Who or what, he isn't sure. For as long as he's lived within these lands he's yet to meet anyone who prayed to them. The spirits titter nervously in his ear, as if afraid for her answer.

let no soul harbor guilt

table by sentinel / art

@Kazimir's perplexed face and sad folded ears remind her a bit of a big sad marmoset. She's never really been the easiest lion to get along with, especially not when it comes to offending Maua. For cussing alone, he's a bit of an unclean ruffian in her eyes, but there's also an innocence that lies beneath the gravel. And her first impressions are usually correct. Or so she likes to think. "You've nefer heard of Maua?" Surprise laces her voice this time. "You're not from around here." She concludes.

"Maua made der vorld. Zey vatch over us ahll. Young ahnd old, big ahnd small." She gives him a pointed look at the last part. He's so huge she's surprised he managed to squeeze into the cave at all. "Ze heafen ahnd earth are ahs zey made zem. Ahnd I doubt zey'd ahppreciate your vulgarity inside zeir sanctum." A final jab at his unfortunate blunder. "I take it you're not religious?" Her voice steadily rolls away into the cavern, her multicolored eyes trained in his direction.

code to pine

Finally, a semblance of an answer.

Her conclusion is right on the money -- he is not from here. Even with all the time spent in amaryllis, it is not home -- they hadn't made it so. Nyet, he says softly, agreeing with her assessment. Would that make his trespasses easier to weather? Or would it make them all worse? A blundering fool, he's the perfect picture of it.

His attention refouses, settling heavily upon @Ingrid as she speaks. Explaining just who this maua was -- and all that they've done. Surprise colors his features, twisting them up as he considers it. The ground beneath his paws almost feels warm, extra solid -- the quiet in the air feels more pressing. A presence, maybe; something a smidge more tangible than the spirits tittering softly in his ears.

Maybe that's why they're quiet, now.

I.... am, he admits quietly -- a large admission, for an even larger man. More than he used to be, at least; belief first, now responsibility thrust upon him. But it's... different. No maua, no central figure -- still, the weight of it settles around his shoulders like a drape. Softly he reclines upon his haunches, looking thoughtful. Is your maua alone? Or are there others, here? Of all the strange things the masked woman has said, this is the strangest among them -- he cannot fathom a singular deity.

let no soul harbor guilt

table by sentinel / art

She recognizes that accent, she even understands the diction; a result of serving the Krasotas. She speaks it—but only words and phrases she's heard in snatches of conversation. He's the first one she's heard speaking it, like a dead language restored. Briefly, her past reels before her eyes—the horror of it all—but she never takes her eyes off him.

She feels it, too, the warmth of the cave, despite the sky being choked with snow beyond the cavern walls. Ingrid never entertained the possibility of a lone god, no one around them but the vast sprawl of heaven. She considers herself a religious scholar, but there's things even she doesn't fully understand. "Zey cannot be alone. I once saw primefal elephants roam der earth—a lifing dead shpecies. Not Maua's verk." Not their work, no. Then whose?

A silence settles over her then, her face finally softening as she regards @Kazimir. "Your ahccent rings familiar. Ahnd zat shaggy, dishelefed mane of yours... you're from der far north, are you not?"

code to pine